Exhaust

So this is what I came up with.  I was going to give Jadzia a car, but not free and clear.  It would be a trade.  She gets the car, I get the Voskhod.  And, she agrees to never ride any motorcycle.

Today, if a Cuban has the money, they can buy a new car.  Korean imports are popular.  We have customers who drive Kias and Hyundais.  

But that was not for me.  Not only would it be a struggle for me to afford a new car, that wouldn’t have been any fun.  I had a better idea.

Believe it or not, a common vehicle in Cuba is made in China.  The Beijing BJ212.  These simple but rugged off-road vehicles are similar to Toyota’s Land Cruiser.  The Cuban government has been importing them for decades.  Many are owned by police departments and the military.  Only a few have filtered into private hands.

However, governments have no use for wrecks.  Emil had a Beijing that had been rolled over at high speed.  It only had 12,000 kilometers on it.  The engine, though damaged, was repairable.  Much of the interior and various other parts were useable.

People who run salvage yards know each other.  In a country where car parts are always needed and always hard to come by, a lot of trading goes on.  I told Emil what I wanted to do.  He made phone calls.  

I travelled to various yards in the Havana area.  For not too many pesos, I bought four wrecked Beijings.  All had sustained somewhat different kinds of damage.  Between the four, I figured I could make one good car.

Except it wouldn’t be me doing the work.  It would be Jadzia and Tolomeo.  

Jadzia had no idea the vehicle was for her.  The story was, a Mr. Garcia hired us to build the vehicle for him.  He was going to give it to his daughter as a birthday gift.  Mr. Garcia was one of the salvage yard owners, who agreed to do some acting.

I told Jadzia she was in charge of the job.  It was the first time I’d given her a project this big.  In fact, it was the most complicated project ever at our shop.  Flatbed trucks delivered the mangled vehicles and we lined them up in the lot behind the building.  The kids began tearing them down.  

Inside the shop, one bay contained stacks of usable parts.  Two piles of destroyed parts grew in the lot.  The metal and other valuable scrap would be sold back to Emil.  The rest would end up in the landfill.

They alternated.  One would strip parts while the other began welding a frame together.  Unlike the Voskhod, they didn’t hide their work with a blanket.  It took six months.  I watched as my kids bolted and welded a Frankensteined Beijing BJ212 into life.

When they were done, you would be hard pressed to tell the difference between their creation, and one that had just rolled off the assembly line.  The paint job was perfect.  The frame was straight.  The gaps lined up.  The suspension and brakes were tight.  The engine purred.  

This time I couldn’t tell Jadzia not to drive the vehicle.  She was the project manager.  After a few test runs, they had worked out the remaining bugs.  The Beijing was ready.  

Mr. Garcia showed up.  The kids thought he was there to pick up his vehicle.  Isabella and I stood off to the side, to watch the expression on Jadzia’s face when she found out.

Jadzia and Tolomeo handled the reveal.  I made sure the Beijing was parked next to the Voskhod.  When she finished talking, Jadzia handed Mr. Garcia the keys and said, “Do you want to take it for a test drive before we finish the paperwork?”

He spoke.  “Actually, I’m not the owner of this vehicle.  Your father is.  I’m just a friend who agreed to go along with his prank.  Here’s the deal.  This is actually your car, if you want it.  But it’s not a gift, it’s a trade.”  He pointed at the motorcycle, sitting up on its pole.  “For the Voskhod.  And, a promise that you never ride any motorcycle, ever.  What do you say?”

Whatever came out of her mouth was something between a shriek and a scream.  She grabbed the keys from Mr. Garcia and practically tackled me with a hug.  I interpreted that as a yes.  

Jadzia and Isabella decided to break the car in by making a trip to the grocery store.  The guys stood in the lot and watched the Beijing drive off.  Tolomeo turned to me and said, “So, Papá, when do I get a car?”

Kids.